Mr Wrong
by soyforramen
Summary: Hermione tries to navigate the perils of high school, young love, and the ever present annoyance that is Fred Weasley. "C'mon Granger. I might even let you see my bad tattoo."
1. Tattoo

Mr. Wrong – F/HR Muggle AU based on the song Mr. Wrong by Cracker. "C'mon Granger. I might even let you see my tattoo."

 _Well meet me by the river that goes nowhere_

 _Let me lay my sorry trip on you_

 _Won't you meet me by the river, little darling?_

 _I might just let you see my bad tattoo_

/Summer before freshman year/

"C'mon, Granger. It's just a little river water. Not like it'll bite you or anything," Fred Weasley mocked, that insufferable grin stuck to his face. Hermione wanted nothing more than to slap it off. Then again, that had been her number one wish from Santa since she'd moved in across from the Weasleys nine years ago. As he was ten feet away on the river bank, she scowled at him instead. She could hear his groupies off to the right giggling and he threw them a wink.

Honestly. She had thought she'd get away from all the giggling over boys once she'd entered ninth grade. Apparently it only got worse if they were giggling over Fred Weasley of all things. Then again, giggling seemed to appear when anything with long limbs, easy grins, and that irritating sense of Weasley 'charm' that hadn't worked on her since he'd she'd a frog down the back of her shirt when she was six. Apparently, other girls were not so immune.

The twins had dragged these three from somewhere up the river bank – Alina, Angelica, and Katie perhaps? – and she was now witness to their hopeless fawning over the twins. Ten minutes after meeting them, and nine minutes since the girls had begun ignoring her when she had no idea who Zeke and Liam were, she decided that so long as they kept the twins occupied, she mind the giggling. If they were willing to put up with the twins insanity and insatiable need for entertainment it meant that Hermione didn't have to.

"Hermione," George called to her from the river, "it's really not that bad. See, it's only up to my hips."

Ah, George. The only good twin in the Weasley family as far as she was concerned. Hermione gave him a soft smile, her mood lightening a bit at George's attempts to include her. Harry and Ron had wandered off and left her ten minutes after they'd arrived at the river, leaving her to deal with the twins alone. George had always been her favorite Weasley boy, after Ron of course, and Charlie, but Charlie worked with tigers, giving him an obvious bump way up the list. Then again, George often fought his way up to number one when he saved her from Fred's many schemes, but especially when he saved the last piece of Molly's chocolate cake for her.

"Gred! You know that doesn't mean anything," Fred told him, shooting a quick glance to where the girls were tanning. Once satisfied that he had a full audience, he continued, "She'd still be a foot underwater and we'd have to call out for a search and rescue."

On cue, the giggling began anew. Pleased with their response, he smirked at Hermione and ran towards the river to join his brother.

Her eyes narrowed. Damn him and damn his cruel tendencies. Did he really have to act as if they were still in elementary school? Sure, they'd never gotten along, but what did he get going out of his way to torment her? She hadn't even begun high school yet. If this is what high school boys were like maybe she should rethink her mother's suggestion to go to the prep school instead.

Hermione refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd gotten to her though. She pulled out her book, summer's recommended reading, and opened it. She'd learned the hard way that the best way to deal with Fred Weasley was to ignore him and act as if his words meant nothing. It was like dealing with a cat, she imagined. Not that she'd had much experience with cats but surely they could take a hint that they weren't wanted.

No, the best thing to do now, she decided, was to settle back against this shade tree, read, and begin scheming the best way to go on the defensive against high school boys. And even if she wasn't able to come up with a good plan, at least she'd have the satisfaction of getting lost between the pages with Rhett as company. He was far better than present company by miles.

Hermione became completely engrossed in the story, irritated at Scarlett's schemes and sympathizing with Rhett. It wasn't until the sun was in her eyes that she realized several hours had passed. She was now sitting fully in the sun's rays and the twins and their trio had come from the river to escape the heat and were now sitting about twenty feet from her. She glanced over to where they were sitting and noted with some sadistic pleasure that Fred was looking redder than his hair was. As she was picking up her bag and towel, Hermione was pleased that her own skin had darkened, taking on olive undertones. She'd have to thank Ginny for the sunscreen recommendation.

Loud laughter from the group caught her attention, and Hermione realized that the twins were telling the girls about their prank on Percy this morning. Something to do with breaking his computer, if she recalled correctly. Ron was vague on the details, but he'd never been good at figuring out their pranks.

Hermione tried to keep a smile from her face when she realized that George was, rather pathetically, attempting to flirt with Alina (Or was it Angelica? She would have to get better at names or she'd never meet anyone new at school). Deciding that she was safer and more entertained by George, she made her way to the trunk of the true and began settling in. When she looked up, Fred was throwing his arms out to his side and began gripping his head. She rolled her eyes at his antics and he grinned at her. She made a face and opened her book again. With any luck, he'd leave her alone in favor of his newest audience.

She hadn't gotten more than four pages when Fred threw himself down next to her, apparently bored with a conversation about skin care. Hermione began to make a list of anything she'd done that was horrible enough to inflict Fred Weasley upon her, and she came up short. (Cutting Millicent Bulstrode's pigtails in the third grade didn't count. She deserved it after kicking Ginny and punching Harry in the face.) Or maybe, if Hermione was really honest to herself, luck had never liked her and was the bitch at the front of the class making Hermione's life miserable.

Uncomfortable with Fred's closeness, Hermione shifted to put more space between them. Fred threw his arm around her and grinned down at her. Fine, if he wanted to act buddy buddy, she'd just remind him of the blackmail material she'd yet to tell his mother about. Molly would certainly want to know that it was Fred (and George, but Hermione would never rat him out) who had glued Ms. McGonagall to her chair on his last day of school.

Encouraged by this plan of action, Hermione picked Fred's arm off her with two fingers and dropped it. He smirked at her and leaned closer, lightly tugging on her braid. Did he really not understand she wanted nothing to do with him? Just because they were neighbors didn't mean they were friends. Or did working on those machines with his father cause him to lose too many brain cells? She wouldn't be surprised if it had.

She jumped when she realized just how close he'd gotten to her. If she turned her head any, their cheeks would touch.

"Me and George are thinking we should head over to Fortescue's for ice cream until the heat dies down. I know you've been dying for their strawberry chocolate. What do you think?"

Hermione slapped his hand away from her hair and leaned away – far away – from him. "Fred Weasley, asking for my opinion in a civil manner? What has the world come to?" Fred only grinned at her and she rolled her eyes. "Quite frankly, I don't know what to think other than wonder if you just want a bigger audience."

"Oh, c'mon Hermione, it will be fun. I promise."

Hermione raised her eyebrow at him. The last time he promised that something would be fun she'd ended up missing a shoe, covered in paint, and running from a cow, hoping that her mother never figured out that she'd snuck out.

"Besides, you wouldn't want to leave Ron and Harry alone chasing after them would you? They're about to explode with teenage lust and awkwardness."

Hermione looked over to where Fred was indicating. Somehow, Ron and Harry were surrounded by a group of college aged women trying to get directions to a nearby tube rental place. Ron was blushing hard enough to show through his sunburn while Harry was trying, and failing, to keep his eyes on their faces.

She snorted at the sight. Leave it to those two to find some way to embarrass themselves in front of anyone of the female persuasion who wasn't a Weasley or a Granger. Fred stared at her, shocked at the unlady like sound, and let out a loud chuckle. Hermione made a face at him.

And then Fred was pressing into her side, close enough that if she breathed in their sides would touch. She felt his hand smooth down her braid, coming to rest at the small of her back. Hermione's eyes flew open at the sudden contact, startled at his unfamiliar touch, hoping she didn't look like a deer caught in the headlights. Fred took the opportunity to softly move her hair away from the neck and whisper in her ear. She could feel his breath against her ear before they ever registered in her mind, an unwanted shiver running down her back.

"C'mon dove. If you come, I'll show you my bad tattoo. George hasn't even seen it yet. But I know you'd appreciate it's … placement."

Oh, goodness. Why had he said _that_? To _her_? She could feel her face heat up and her stomach began to fill with butterflies. What on earth could this bad tattoo be – was it bad in that it was poorly done, or was it content his mother would kill him for? And why would he mention placement? It wasn't as if he was wearing much now, wouldn't she be able to see it? Unless it was in another place.

Her jaw dropped as she turned to face him, fighting to keep from eyeing his body. Fred leaned back and smirked at her, and she knew that he knew exactly what she was thinking. He winked at her before jumping to his feet and yelling at Harry and Ron to stop flirting and ask the ladies out so they could get out of the heat. Hermione was far too wound up to pay attention to Ron's embarrassed retort. She found she could only stare at Fred, her mind still reeling through what his comment could have meant.

Fred turned back to her and Hermione snapped her jaw together. That insufferable smirk was back. And all Hermione Jane Granger could think of were all the horrible ways she could get back at Fred Weasley and wipe that cruel, teasing smile from his face.

"Might want to collect yourself soon, Granger, or you'll miss all the fun at Fortescue's." Fred turned around and walked back over to the group, probably to cause more trouble.

In just three short weeks she'd be sharing a school with the most insane, most annoying, most insufferable person imaginable, and, if Ms. McGonagall was correct, she'd likely be sharing a class or two with him. For the second time in her life since Pansy Parkinson had forced a mud and gravel pie into her face during first grade, Hermione Jane Granger began plotting a slow and steady plan for revenge.


	2. Flowers

_Well I was gonna bring you flowers, but I didn't_

 _It's the thought that counts and I think I'm a bit too broke_

/Late August, Sophomore year/

Hermione sighed. She couldn't believe she'd let Ginny talk her into going to this stupid party. Just because Ginny was dating a football player didn't mean she had to go. A chance to speak with her gorgeous lab partner surely wasn't enough to deal with this level of noise and annoyance. She looked around once more, hoping to find him in the gyrating mass of teenagers, only to be disappointed once more when there was no sight of him.

Hermione took another sip of whatever it was that Ginny had shoved in her hands and leaned against the wall. Anymore time thinking about boys with foreign accents and she'd become one of those high school specials, underage drinking and all. Maybe she really was spending too much time with Ginny and Luna. She turned to let a group by only to be jostled when one of them tripped into her.

"Damnit!" Great, alcohol spilled all down her front. Now she'd really have to be careful to sneak in tonight least she get another lecture about irresponsibility. She shot a glare at a retreating Parvati and began to shove her way to the kitchen.

Her dress was likely ruined, a dark stain already taking hold. Her perfect blue, silk and lace dress. The only thing in her closet that made her feel pretty enough to turn heads, the only reason she'd worn it tonight. And heels. She was stupid enough to wear heels for someone who hadn't even bothered to show up tonight. Hermione wasn't sure if she was more irritated by the liquid dripping down her chest, her attempts to be attractive to him, or his absence.

She managed to spill her drink only once more on her way to the kitchen, miraculously enough on Lavender Brown's horrible excuse for shoes. Hermione groaned when she saw that the kitchen was, somehow, crammed full of even more people. At this point, she was sure she didn't go to school with even half these people. Somehow, she managed to fight her way towards the sink and wet a paper towel. She'd just barely began to dab at the quickly drying stain when she was thrown away from the sink by a clearly inebriated Dean, who promptly began dry heaving into it.

She stumbled into the person behind her and was grateful when hands grabbed her shoulders to steady her. Her gratitude quickly turned sour when she heard a familiar silken drawl at her right shoulder.

"Careful, Granger. Do that too often and you'll have the boys beating down your door."

Lovely, out of all the people she was trying to avoid she'd found him. Narrowing her eyes, she spun around to face him with a ready retort on her tongue, only to find the current bane of her existence had slipped away. She frowned. How on earth had he managed to slip through so many people that easily? Well, with any luck she'd be able to avoid him the rest of the night. She still hadn't fully gotten back at him for rigging her locker to play "The Bitch is Back" every time she opened it. Insufferable bastard.

Once she was finally able to get most of alcohol smell out of her dress she glanced at the clock, hoping that it would be late enough to convince Ginny to leave with her. Only 9:30. Damnit. Oliver Woods's gorgeous arms weren't enough to make her want to stick around much longer. Especially since she hadn't seen him since they'd arrived.

Hermione lurched forward, hit from behind by Seamus and Dean horsing around in the kitchen. Ginny only said she had to be at the party. She hadn't specified that Hermione had to be inside. Grabbing a bottle of whatever had been left in the ice chest, Hermione shoved her way out the back door, only to be met with Harry and Cho making out on the back porch. At least someone's crush had made it to the party.

She stalked further away from the merged organism of Charry, only to be greeted by Cormac McLaggen and the rest of the second string. This night really could not get any worse if she tried. Even a flat tire and a three mile hike in heels would be better than this.

Cormac whistled at her and he stood up to greet her, his voice nasally. "There you are my sweet thing. I knew you couldn't resist my charms." Ugh. If this was his attempt at being smooth, Hermione was tempted to take a sander to his face. Unfortunately, his attempts drew catcalls from a few of his teammates and Hermione resisted the urge to throw a shoe at them.

Oh god. Did he just wink? Did people even wink anymore? This night was getting worse and worse every minute.

"Only a troll would be impressed, McLaggen. Perhaps you can practice on some _dragon's balls,_ they might be more receptive," she threw over her shoulder, knowing it would get to him. She smirked when she heard McLaggen choke on what he was drinking, his friends howling in laughter and made her way towards the fence line.

At the start of the year, McLaggen had developed a strange, borderline obsessive crush on Hermione. As soon as Harry noticed he went into overprotective brother mode and had warned her about the junior. It wasn't necessary, the boy was repulsive enough on his own, but she appreciated the concern. Hermione had then gone about rebuffing all of his advances and done everything she could think of to convince the troll she wasn't interested. Unfortunately, McLaggen seemed to take it as a challenge, even when she'd squeezed mustard in his face the day of the team photo.

It wasn't until he'd gotten handsy in the lunch room that Hermione had enough. When they were complaining about McLaggen getting them all an extra three miles at practice, she'd mentioned casually that it really wouldn't be that hard to tamper with the mask on a football helmet. Oddly enough, the manufacturers failed to notice that if it the mask was moved just an inch and a half down half a football could easily fit through the mask. Even odder still, McLaggen had taken a football to the face during the first play the next week during Homecoming. The star player of the Durmstrang Dragons had stumbled a bit and threw it towards the Godric Griffin line instead, hitting McLaggen in just the right spot.

Hermione always had her suspicions that Harry, Ron, and the twins had something to do with the "freak throw" that had caused McLaggen to break his nose. Cedric Diggory was known for having the best arm in the district and he'd never stumbled before. Her suspicions were only confirmed when Cedric pulled up outside of the Weasley's house and left with a reconstructed record player. Still, Hermione felt oddly satisfied every time she saw McLaggen's bandaged nose.

The front yard it was then, if for nothing else than to escape McLaggen and his cronies. She could lay back on the hood of her beat up Chevy and watch the stars until Ginny finally decided it was time to leave. As she neared the car, she realized that someone else had already beaten her to it. One of the twins, she decided, though in this light she could hardly tell which. The boy glanced up at her, smirked when he realized who it was, snuck a quick glance at her chest, and laid back down. It had to be Fred. George never looked anywhere but her face.

"Shove over," she told him, throwing her heels into the open back window before climbing onto the hood next to him.

"Pushy tonight. I think I like it." Even in the dark she knew he was smirking at her. Predictable Weasleys, taking up space on her car and making suggestive comments.

"Oh, shut up."

He gave a sharp bark of laughter and folded his hands behind his head. "Yes, ma'am."

They sat there in silence, looking at the sky and listening to the cicadas and low bass coming from the house. Hermione had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that it was nice to sit there in silence with him, enjoying the lingering summer heat and the fruity concoction that attempted to play itself off as an adult beverage. She couldn't remember when she'd sat in silence like this with Fred, or any of the Weasleys for that matter. This was far better than his normally boisterous personality.

Not surprisingly, Fred was the first to break the silence after a few minutes. "Wicked prank, Granger."

"Thanks," she told him, surprised at his reaction.

She honestly thought that he would never speak to her again after embarrassing him in front of Angelina, Alicia, and Katie. In retaliation for making her locker unusable, Hermione had taken it upon herself to switch out Mrs. Weasley's ever predictable Wednesday lunches with less savory items, including microwaved soap (which looked surprisingly like wheat bread, a fact Ginny had been eager to share with her), Oreos that had the cream switched out for toothpaste, and a bag of chips sprinkled very generously with a mix of cayenne pepper, lemon juice, and cinnamon. The chips she'd put in George's bag, hoping that Fred would continue to switch the two bags when George wasn't looking. Needless to say, the resulting entertainment was well worth living in paranoid wariness for the next two weeks.

They lapsed back in silence and Hermione's thoughts began drifting back to her … well, what was he? He certainly wasn't her boyfriend. And they weren't dating. At least, she didn't think kissing him behind the bleachers after halftime counted as dating. Of course, it might be different in Bulgaria. Oh god, what if Ginny had been right and he thought that she thought they were dating now, or worse, that he was her boyfriend? Was that why he didn't show up?

Hermione groaned and ran the cool bottle over her forehead. Her father was right. Boys were far too much trouble. She shouldn't have this many butterflies in her stomach just from thinking about him. Or maybe it was the cheap nachos Oliver had laid out earlier. He'd looked so proud of himself that she couldn't help but take a plateful, smiling as she tried to choke down the horrid concoction of cheese, grease, and sour cream as he rambled on about some football play. Oliver Wood, she decided, was very easy on the eyes, but had little in the way of brain power. Viktor, on the other hand … There was a reason she chose him as an English partner despite Ron's insistence that there were perfectly good native speakers to choose from.

Oh lord, when did she become the kind of girl who always had a boy on the brain?

"Penny for your thoughts, Granger?" She looked over to see Fred staring at her, his own bottle dangling from his hand.

"Nothing you'd want to hear about I'm sure." He lifted an eyebrow and waited. "Boys," she said hurriedly.

"Ah. Not worth it. None of us are at this stage really."

Hermione laughed at that. Fred Weasley could be smart enough when he wanted to. Too bad it only happened once in a blue moon.

"I would have brought you flowers, you know," Fred told her softly. Seeing her confused look, Fred rushed on, "For your birthday. Last week, wasn't it?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, trying to figure out what he was playing at. The only thing the twins had ever given her for her birthday was a zip-up daily planner filled with grasshoppers, and even then they'd given her one of Percy's old ones. Coming up empty, she took another pull at the bottle.

Fred sat forward and rolled his bottle between his hands. If she didn't know any better, she'd have thought he was nervous. Or maybe he was just embarrassed at admitting he knew when her birthday was.

"But I'm a bit too broke after George and I bought those scrap parts from the shop." She could see out of the corner of her eye that he'd turned to look at her. "It's the thought that counts, right?" There was something in his voice, something she couldn't quite place her finger on. She turned to look at him, really look at him this time, surprised to find him staring at her with an intensity that made her blush.

A breeze wound its way through her still damp dress, sending a shiver down her spine and she sat up herself. She turned her attention back to the now empty bottle and began picking at the label. He'd done something different tonight or it was the alcohol perhaps. Though he and George had looked different from one another tonight. Angelina – or was it Alicia – must have done something to it. Or were they even still dating? They had been on and off for the past year and she'd stopped trying to keep up with it. Perhaps it was the shirt he was wearing, a bright vivid blue that clashed nicely with his hair. Or the red scratch above his right eye? (She warned him he'd added far too much sodium to the solution for it to be stable.

Or maybe it was that she'd never seen him this still, staring at her like she was something valuable, some great puzzle to be solved. Staring at her like he was waiting for her to do or say something. In the twelve years they'd known each other, she'd never been this nervous in front of him and she couldn't say she liked the feeling.

When the silence became so great she couldn't take it any longer, she turned back to him, desperate to say something, anything to break the tension. Just as she'd opened her mouth there was a loud thumping noise behind them, causing them to jump and turn towards the sound. Her mouth dropped open in surprise as Ron and Pansy Parkinson snuck out of the back gate, walking hand in hand towards town. Not two days before, Ron and Pansy had gotten into a screaming match in the hallway when they'd bumped into each other. If anyone had said they'd end up leaving a party together, Hermione would have asked whether they were carrying a body between them.

Fred and Hermione glanced at each other and began laughing at the sight.

And like that, they were back to being Hermione Granger and Fred Weasley, neighbors, enemies (frenemies?), and occasional partners in crime.

*Alternative songs that were considered: Thong Song, I Wanna Sex You Up, I Touch Myself, Why Don't We Do It In The Road, Sexual Healing, Darling Nikki, Big Balls by AC/DC, etc. etc.


	3. Change

Just a quick note before starting: The story is set in the early nineties meaning no cell phones (unless you wanted to look like Zack Morris talking into a brick).

 _But there's some change in my ashtray_

 _Maybe just enough to pay_

 _For a half pint of something that will probably make us choke_

/Mid-October, Sophomore Year/

She wanted to kill him. Him, his doppelganger, his younger brother, all of his older brothers, and Harry. _Especially_ Harry. Ginny was the only one who was safe; she and Hermione had a project due for theatre on Monday and Hermione would be damned if she failed Trelawney's class because her partner was buried six feet under the football field.

Why oh why was it decided that she had to be the one to pick up _Fred_. _Fred_ who was a thirty minute drive away in the next town. _Fred_ who was shopping for Harry and Ron's science project that was due tomorrow. _Fred_ who dumped four gallons of tapioca pudding on her in the lunch room in front of Viktor Krum. He was the reason Viktor was avoiding her and any small, improbable chance she'd ever had with the Bulgarian soccer player was gone in an instant. And, on top of everything else, her backpack still smelled vaguely of pudding two and a half weeks later.

"But Hermione," she whined in a poor imitation of Harry, "you're the only one with a working car that has gas in it. George is out running errands for Mrs. Weasley and we've got to have Fred for our science project he's the only one who understands it. You know Ron and I can't figure out anything more complex than an on off switch, and you're even worse." Hermione scoffed. "Not my fault electronics are witchcraft."

Hermione was in a bad mood and she relished it. Her sophomore year was quickly turning into a bigger disaster than her freshman year. At least last year she was only known as the weird girl with big hair and a book fetish. Now she was Malfoy's number one kicking post. He, along with his two stooges, had slowly begun to make her life a living hell, starting off slow with comments about her skin and her hair. When Ron found out what he'd said he'd gone after Malfoy during lunch and had gotten expelled before he could even connect a punch. She hadn't understood most of what Malfoy had told her until she asked her father later that afternoon. He'd almost pulled her out of school that night to transfer her to the private school forty-five minutes away.

When her father stormed into school the next day, Principal Umbridge told him there wasn't anything that could be done as three of the four witnesses denied that anything had ever been said. That didn't stop them from expelling Ron for a week though. Now Malfoy had taken to elementary school tactics by tripping her in the hallways and throwing her bag onto the roof during lunch. Only her friends and, surprisingly, Pansy Parkinson, had made any attempt to stop Malfoy's behavior while everyone else just turned a blind eye to it.

Cowards, all of them. Just because someone's father had a bit of money didn't mean he should be allowed to do whatever he wanted without consequences. If she'd had her way, Malfoy and his cronies would be sent off to finish the rest of their education in juvie.

At the same time, Lavender Brown and Pansy Parkinson had begun to fight over Ron and somehow Hermione, as Ron's best girl friend, had been dragged into their war against each other. It seemed that all a boy had to do to be popular was to stop the other's team from scoring the final touchdown thereby qualifying the team for State. Meanwhile Ron was loving every minute of the attention, constantly going back and forth on the pros and cons of dating each girl. Hermione was sick of listening about it and had told him so, far too loudly, in the middle of the assembly introducing Umbridge as the new interim principal.

Needless to say, Hermione hadn't wanted to do Ron any favors until Harry had begun begging.

As she pulled into the parking lot of the second-hand shop, Hermione's scowl deepened as she saw what Fred had dragged to the curb. There was no way all of that would fit into her tiny Honda without a warp in space and time itself. Three TV's, four radios, a microwave, and a mini-refrigerator. Unless he was sending the boys to the moon (an experiment she'd gladly help with), there was no way all of that was necessary.

As soon as she pulled up to the curb, Hermione threw the car into park and hit the latch for the trunk, refusing to help Fred load the car. It was the first cold front of the year and she was underdressed in a t-shirt and ripped jeans. Her mother had been so busy at the office after Halloween that she hadn't had a chance to take Hermione out shopping for new winter clothes. Hermione had finally hit her first growth spurt since sixth grade, shooting up just enough that her jeans were uncomfortable and her winter tops were too short for her father to let her out of the house.

Instead, she contented herself with watching Fred load as much as he could into the trunk and played with the air vents. She hoped he'd be quick about it; her knitting, Crookshanks, and Gilderoy Lockehart's latest novel were waiting for her at home. She watched as Fred awkwardly picked up the mini-fridge and turned it around to fit into the trunk. She heard a crash, followed by loud cursing.

"Little help here Granger?" Fred yelled at her, his voice muffled through the glass.

Hermione took a deep breath in, enjoying the heat coming from the vents before throwing her door open. She glared at Fred as she picked up the smallest radio on the curb and threw it in the back seat. She gave Fred one of the fake grins he seemed to love so much on his girlfriends and climbed back in the driver's seat. She'd be damned if she helped any more than that; after all, it wasn't her science project.

Fred only stared at her and she could see his mouth moving in the rearview mirror, probably calling her all sorts of lovely, endearing names. He slammed the trunk closed and opened the back door and began loading the microwaves and radios, muttering to himself the whole time.

Good. If he was that angry he wouldn't talk to her and she could get home quicker.

Once he'd loaded everything up, Fred threw the passenger side door open and dropped into the set. He looked right at her as he slammed the door hard enough to shake the frame. She bit back an insult and looked at him.

"Well? Are we going or not?" Fred barked at her. Hermione was half-convinced he was trying to bait her into a fight.

She turned to face him and put on the most cheerful face she could manage before chirping out, "Seatbelt."

His only response was to scowl at her and drag the seat belt across his body. The second he managed to buckle it, Hermione gunned the engine and shot out of the parking lot.

"Damnit Granger, I'd rather not die today. Could you slow it down?" After going out of her way to pick him up and this is the thanks she gets?

"And I need to go by the Broomsticks. My schedule is up for the week." Hermione shot a glare his way.

"Manners never hurt anyone, Weasley."

Fred rolled his eyes. "Please," he asked, his words laced with enough sarcasm to kill a yak.

"Fine," she huffed. "But after that straight home. I've got a midterm next week and I'm hardly prepared for it." She heard him snort, but surprisingly he kept his mouth shut. They both knew she was over prepared for all of her exams as always.

She didn't understand why he was in such a bad. It wasn't as if someone dumped the school's supply of pudding on him. Yes, she was beginning to feel a bit guilty for not helping him, but it was cold outside and she didn't want to be here. It wasn't her fault he'd been abandoned by his twin, dropped off at the store at 9:00 a.m. to come up with Ron and Harry's project entirely on his own, then forgotten about until Ron had finally gotten around to waking up at noon to answer the house phone.

Thinking it over again, the small twinge of guilt she felt began to grow. She had to remind herself why she was so angry with him in the first place to keep from apologizing. He'd destroyed any chance she had with Viktor, the only decent boy to ever show an interest in her. And to make the situation worse, he'd thrown his arm around her pudding covered shoulders and asked if her marriage proposal from second grade was still on the table. If she'd known at eight years old that offering him her hand in marriage for a pudding cup would lead to that she'd have willingly sworn off pudding for the rest of her life.

They drove in silence for the twenty minutes it took to get to the Three Broomsticks. Hermione pulled up to the curb, read to throw Fred out into the parking lot. She turned, itching to make a mean comment, when her stomach dropped down to the pavement. There, through the wide picture windows of the restaurant, were George and Angelina sitting in a booth across from Lee and Katie Bell, laughing and having a good time. As she watched, George threw his arm around Angelina's should and she turned her face up to him for a quick peck on the lips.

Oh, this was bad. This was way worse than having pudding dumped on her and anything Malfoy could have said to her combined. She glanced at Fred, hoping he hadn't seen. Judging from his pale face, he had seen it and it was worse than she'd imagined. Fred took a deep breath in and told her, "Drive. Just please drive Hermione."

Hermione ground the gears as she put the car into first gear, killing it twice before finally getting the timing of the clutch right. This was far worse than she'd imagined. He hadn't called her Hermione since he was seven and made up his mind that all girls had cooties.

"Do you want to go home?" She asked quietly, putting on her blinker.

"No! Please no. Just drive somewhere. I don't care where." She glanced over at him. He'd hunched down in the seat and crossed his arms, his knees crowding up against the dash. "Running errands my ass," she heard him mutter.

The rode around for twenty minutes, Hermione taking random turns throughout town, before she finally got the courage up to say something.

"If it would make you feel better, we can try and track down Mundungus Fletcher. I think there's enough change in the ashtray if you're willing."

Fred snorted. "Either make us choke or kill us." He paused a moment when she didn't continue. "You're serious?"

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. She'd never done anything against the rules before (saving Harry and Ron from expulsion didn't count) and she was beginning to wonder whether she'd want to start. "Unless you want a coffee? I'd probably want something a bit stronger than that," Hermione paused, unsure of what to call it. She settled for waving her hand vaguely instead.

"You're right on that," Fred muttered, sitting up a bit straighter than before. "Right up here."

Hermione followed his directions towards the west part of town, houses quickly giving way to abandoned storefronts and empty lots. He directed her to an overgrown field full of rusting metal and car parts, a rusted out van on blocks the only thing still recognizable among the junk. She pulled off to the side of the road and shut off the car, jingling the keys nervously as she began to question her decision.

Fred noticed her nervousness and grinned at her, a tiny bit of mischief coming back into his eyes. "Still time to back out, you know. I won't think any less of you, promise."

"No, no," she told him. "I said I was willing to do this and I am. Besides, no one should have to deal that that," she waved her hand again, "alone."

Hermione reached over and pulled her ashtray out and Fred dug into his front pockets for the rest of the change from the thrift shop. Hermione hoped there was enough between the two of them to make the drive worth it.

"Sure you won't miss your study session?" Fred asked again, giving her one last way out.

Hermione breathed in to calm her nerves. "Quite sure. Now get out of my car before I change my mind." She braced herself for the wind before throwing her door open.

The two slowly picked their way through the minefield of car parts and over grown plants. Hermione was proud that she'd only tripped once, catching herself before she fell onto her face. Halfway to the van, Fred noticed her chattering teeth and threw his jacket at her, walking off before she had time to protest. She slipped it on and followed him the rest of the way.

When they finally made their way to the van, Fred began banging on the side of the door until it cracked open. A dark, musky scent that reminded Hermione of the art room crept out and she took a step back. She could see Mundungus squinting through the small gap, his hair tangled in what she assumed to be a poor imitation of dreadlocks. It appeared that they'd woken him up from a stoned stupor. Mundungus reached up to scratch his head and Hermione had to keep from gagging when his hand came away with a dirty blonde clump of hair in his hand. He looked at it for a moment before shaking it off and wiping his hand on the back of the passenger seat.

"Weasley the Fourth? Or is it the Fifth? To what do I owe the pleasure, man?"

"Just strolling through and decided to see what you were up to on this holiest of high holy days?"

Mundungus squinted at Fred as if he'd just imparted the secrets of the universe.

"What? It's Sunday already? Man, I gotta stay away from the acid." Mundungus opened the van door and let his legs dangle.

Hermione took a step back. What had she gotten herself into? Everyone knew Mundungus Fletcher as the proverbial high school drop-out. He'd been the top of his class, offered a full scholarship to Harvard until he was offered a joint at a party and had spiraled downwards in a drunken and stoned stupor. Or at least that's what the parents and teachers would tell students to scare them into straightening out.

All of the high school students knew him as the guy who supplied their parties with whatever he could get his hands on.

So why were he and Fred so friendly? She glanced over at Fred and he rolled his eyes. He mouthed something that looked like 'I'll explain later' before turning back to the van and leaning up against it.

"We were wondering if you've got anything a bit uh, stronger, than coffee, if you get my meaning?"

"Oh yeah man. I get you. You got cash? I don't do credit cards no more. Apparently they get all funny if you try to run them through that machine Weasley the Second sold me." Mundungus jerked his thumb towards the radio that was lying on the floor.

"Of course. Always cash for my favorite shop keep." Fred held out his hand and Hermione thrust the ashtray into it. Fred poured its contents into his hand and began counting. For the first time, Mundungus looked at her and she took a step back in surprise.

"Hey now, Weasley the Fourth. Who is she? You bring a narc to my place? I can't deal with no more cops man; look at what they did to my place last time." Mundungus gestured to his van.

Fred waved his question off before going back to counting. "Nah, she's cool. This is just my friend, Jane. Say hello Jane."

"Hello."

Mundungus just threw his head back and laughed. Hermione wasn't sure what the joke was and she certainly didn't want to find out.

"Name like that and you can have a discount. Cops don't have names like that. You're probably a weather lady, or a nurse, or a meter maid at most. You look like a nurse." He turned to Fred. "Those nurses, they've always got the best racks. Did I ever tell you about that time me and this nurse went over to the Arby's? Man, the things she could do with her mouth –"

"Dung, not now," Fred growled at him.

"Oh right. Sorry."

There was silence as Fred finished counting the change out. "Eight dollars and forty eight cents," he said, pouring the change back into the ashtray and handing it over to Mundungus who blinked at it.

"What did you want again?

"Whatever eight dollars and forty-eight cents will get us alcohol wise."

"Right." Mundungus slammed crawled back into the van and slammed the door shut. Hermione could hear him bustling around in the van for a moment before throwing the door open again. She took a step to the right to try and see into the van. Mundungus noticed her and made a noise halfway between a growl and a shout.

"I told you she was a cop man! Did you see her looking inside my van?" He reached under the front seat and grabbed a tire iron. Hermione froze, unsure of whether Fred would be safe if she ran for the car.

"Dung, it's cool! She's not a cop!" Fred yelled at him, holding his hands up and trying to reason with the man. Mundungus looked at Fred and lowered the tire iron a few inches. "Look Dung, she's not a cop. She goes to high school with me. How could she be a cop?"

Mundungus lowered the tire iron to his side as he thought about it. "I dunno man. They recruit them young like that. That Dare thing brainwashing them to be cops. Besides, look at what she's wearing? Who wears clothes like that in high school, she looks like she's going to a job in the fifties or something."

Hermione was offended enough to forget her terror. This was her favorite shirt! "I am not a cop! And I'll have you know this shirt is very in right now, there are three other girls who have this same shirt." She glanced down, shirt still visible under the open jacket, and had to grudgingly admit her shirt did look a bit dated. But that was the in thing now, Ginny and Pansy had both told her so.

Not one to be deterred from his paranoia, Mundungus pointed at her pants. "And those jeans man! Those are what teachers would think was hip, holes all in it. I mean, did you buy them like that? Who buys ripped up clothing? No wondering you've been recruited into that Dare corporate bull shit brain washing scheme."

Hermione took a step forward, barely noticing that Fred had made his way to her side. "Yes, as a matter of fact I did. They're in right now for your information. This style has been everywhere, Seventeen, 90210, they even had them in Clueless!"

"In what thing? Did you throw all your clothes in a blender and decide to wear them? Because that's the only way those shoes would match that shirt!"

Hermione scoffed and crossed her arms across her chest, ignoring Fred's attempts to pull her back towards her car. "Oh, like you're one to talk Gidget. Board shorts and sandals in October?"

"Hey, I take that as a compliment, lady. She was a stylish and fashion forward lady who was a feminist icon of her day. Which you'd know if you didn't buy into the corporate bull shit machine telling you to buy seventy percent of a pair of pants. That's how they bring you in. Next they'll be telling you to buy invisible shirts to impress those Back Alley Boys you people love so much," he sneered at her.

"Oh please, like you'd know anything about fashion. And it looks like you've already bought into your 'invisible shirts' theory," she said, holding her fingers up in air quotes. "Next they'll hire you on as a fashion consultant. I'm sure your sandal and sock look will be everywhere next spring. Perhaps a fanny pack and a swatch to complete the ensemble with your invisible shirt."

"On man, where'd my shirt go?" Mundungus looked down at his bare chest and spun around as if looking for it.

"Granger," Fred whispered in her ear. "Now is really not the best time or place to trade fashion tips and conspiracies with Dung. He looks like he's coming down from a really bad high." He tugged her towards the car, taking advantage of Mundungus' confusion about where his shirt had gone to.

"Did they come back for it? Or did they just take it back to the lab for testing? Oh, dude, they're probably bugging it right now," Mundungus screeched. He dove back into the van and Hermione followed Fred back to her car. She glanced over her shoulder to see random paraphernalia being thrown out of the van before the door was slammed shut.

Fred all but threw Hermione into the passenger seat, taking the keys from her hand and running around to the other side of the car. He jammed the keys into the ignition and shifted easily into first.

As soon as they'd crossed over the bridge, Fred sighed and leaned back in his seat. "Well, that was a new one."

As Fred made the left turn back into town, what had happened finally hit Hermione. "Did we just get mugged by Mundungus Fletcher?"

Fred grinned at her. "Never knew you had it in you Granger. I'm impre -"

Hermione heard a loud pop and a hiss as her car shifted to the right. Could today get any better?

xxxx

Two hours later, Hermione found herself eating ice cream in her car. She glanced over at Fred, his cheerful mood having disappeared the longer they sat in Fortescue's parking lot. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Fred was silent for a long moment and she wondered if he'd even heard her. "No. Yes? I don't know. I don't even know what to say at this point." Fred continued to stare at his ice cream as it melted. It took everything Hermione had not to tell him to be careful. These seat overs were new after all.

"I thought, well. I don't even know if I should say anything," she said, digging another scoop out of her sundae. Fred quirked his eyebrow at her and Hermione felt compelled to continue.

"Oh come on, Granger. We've been to Hogsmeade for my brother's science project, gotten mugged in the bad part of town for eight dollars and seventy-eight cents –"

"Eight forty-eight, thank you," Hermione said, determined as ever that the facts were straight.

"Mugged for eight _forty_ -eight then, by Mundungus Fletcher, infamous malcontent, after which you decided to argue with him about fashion and conspiracy theories of all things, popped your back tire on the way back, _fixed_ the damn tire without a jack, and then convinced Fortescue that today was the international day of ice cream in order to get a free ice cream from him. I think the question isn't whether you can say it, but what can't you say?"

Hermione laughed. He did have a point, even if it was a touchy subject. It had only been three hours since they'd pulled into the parking lot of the Three Broomsticks. She bit her lip and chose her words carefully before continuing.

"I thought boys weren't supposed to do things like that."

Fred raised his other eyebrow. When she didn't continue, his slow molasses grin began to emerge as he realized how embarrassed she was talking about it. "Do what, exactly?"

Here she was, trying to be serious and an emotional sounding board for him, and he was teasing her. "Obstinacy is not a good look on you."

"You're right. I've always thought green suited me better."

Hermione turned back to her ice cream and sniffed. "Fine, then. I suppose I'll never find out whether boys weren't supposed to do those things." She glanced at the clock. It was now 4:49 and, if past behavior was anything to go on, Fred would crack at precisely 4:53. Hermione Jane Granger wasn't sure of many things in her life, but one thing she was sure of was that Fred Weasley would always take the chance to prove he knew something she didn't.

She grinned when at 4:52 Fred finally broke down and asked her exactly what she'd meant.

"You know. Date their brothers' girlfriend, doubly so if it's their twin's. Or exes or whatever it was you two were. Isn't there a rule about that somewhere?"

Fred sighed and went back to staring at his ice cream. Hermione's hand twitched towards the napkins, hoping she'd be able to catch any ice cream that might drip down. "That's what I thought too. Must have not gotten the newest manual this year."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Leave it to Fred to attempt to deflect anything serious with humor.

"And we're exes, by the way," Fred continued. "We broke it off last week. For real this time apparently. Last Monday, to be exact."

Hermione hummed and she bit her spoon as she thought. "Five days then. That's really not long at all is it?"

Fred growled and jabbed his spoon into his ice cream. "Thanks for the reminder, Granger."

"Well," she started, taking another bite of ice cream. "It's not as if the two of you weren't always on and off again. And you never seemed terribly happy when you were dating her, lots of screaming matches if I recall. And all you seemed to do was complain about her and how much she was trying to change her. Not to mention her horrible taste in sweaters, I mean really? Did you see what she was wearing in there? Orange and mauve of all things."

Fred groaned and ran a hand over his face. "What is with you and fashion all of a sudden? You've never cared about what you've worn before."

"You're sister threw a bunch of her old magazines at me in September. Apparently she decided I needed a 'look' this year. And it really is kind of fun when it's just the two of us."

Fred glanced over at her and grinned. "And I'm sure it had nothing at all to do with a certain tall, dark, and mumbling stranger showing up this year?"

"Oh hush. Just because a girl decides to update her appearance doesn't mean she's doing it for some boy."

"Gin says it does."

"Yes, well, you're wrong." Hermione glanced over and saw that his neon green ice cream was still dripping and was now dangerously close to dripping down the cone to her seats. Perhaps if she moved the vent just so the air current would blow the drops towards Fred and miss her seats.

"I thought so to," Fred finally said, his voice barely audible over the sound of the car's heater.

"Thought what?" Did he have to get the lime green ice cream? It was the one color at Fortescue's that would clash horrible with her tan seats. She just knew if it spilled she'd she it in the corner of her eye every time she was driving, taunting her. Of course, if she was lucky she could run into Malfoy's precious Beemer and total it with only a dent in her fender. Perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad thing if Fred spilled.

"Date their brother's ex-girlfriends. Double so if it's their twin's ex." Hermione's eyes snapped back to Fred, the ice cream dilemma momentarily abandoned. She really was horrible at this emotions thing, almost as bad as Ron.

"Especially when it's their twin's on-again-off-again girlfriend of the last two and a half years. The one your twin really thought he had a future with." Fred was still again and Hermione had a feeling she finally pushed him over the edge with her questioning. "At least not after having a long, long heart-felt talk with said twin to apologize profusely and beg forgiveness at every chance for even thinking of anything romantic about her."

Fred sighed again and settled back down in the seat. Hermione, not sure if he was done or not, decided it was best to stay silent and let him work things out in his own way. In the meantime, she began watching the ice cream again, ready for any errant dripping.

Fred glanced over at her and he gave a soft laugh when he saw where her eyes were. "Just say it Granger," he told her, gesturing the ice cream at her and pushing the liquid precariously close to the edge. "You'll feel better."

"No, no," Hermione told him, waving a napkin at him on the off-chance he might take it. "It's not a problem. No big, spills happen all the time right?" She turned to look at his face. "And besides, they're just seat cushions, replaceable at any time. Not like a broken heart or anything." She stopped talking, still trying to find a polite way to tell him to eat it _or throw the damn thing out for god's sake_.

"Just, if you'll just put the napkin under it, maybe?" She held the napkin out to him and was surprised when he took it. "Try to be careful, don't upset it. These are brand new seat covers and I'd hate to get them stained so soon after I got them. Your brother does a good enough job of that. It took me a month to finally get the smell out after your brother sat on a banana this summer. It's bad enough with Ron and Harry's sports equipment, I can still smell it lingering three days later like a bad onion. And Ginny spilled –" Fred's laughter interrupted her and she leaned over to pry the ice cream out of his hands.

Once she'd secured the ice cream, she looked over to find Fred laughing full on, head thrown back and tears in his eyes, laughing as if he'd finally pulled the prank of his dreams. For all she knew, he might have.

When he'd finally settled down long enough to catch his breath, Fred looked over at her, looking at her like he had the night of Oliver Wood's party, almost as if she was an engine he itched to pull apart and put back together. "Thanks, Granger. I needed a bit of normalcy."

"No problem. I suppose?" She held his ice cream up and nodded towards it. "Do you still want this?"

"Nah, I'm done. Here, I'll throw it out." Fred opened the door before taking what remained of the ice cream from her to the trash. Her heart gave a small jump as his hands brushed hers and she refused to think about what that might mean.

He was smiling again as he got back in the car. "C'mon, Granger. Let's get back to the house. Bet Harry and Ron are losing their minds by now. They've only got half a day to cobble together something before Snape puts them in detention again."

For some reason, Hermione wasn't ready to go back home. She quirked her head to the side, thinking. "Or, we could let them squirm and get some real food, if you're up to heading back to the Three Broomsticks."

Fred's grin finally reached his eyes for the first time that day. "Granger, I like the way you think."

xxxx

Hermione pulled down Privet Drive a little after eight p.m. and she chuckled when she saw Harry and Ron waiting up on the porch for Fred. She pulled into the Weasley's drive and parked. She could hear Harry and Ron's whining from the porch before she ever opened her door. This time, she helped Fred unload the various electronics out of her car and told Ron where he could shove it when he began trying to guilt her into helping with their project. Grumbling, the two boys took the rest of the electronics inside, but not before shooting her dirty looks over their shoulders.

Fred laughed and opened the driver's side door for her. Once she'd settled in, he leaned over the door. "Hermione?"

"Frederick?"

"Thanks. For today, I mean. I really do appreciate it. Probably more than you realize." He smiled at her, a soft smile she hadn't seen in ages. Her treacherous heart skipped another beat.

She ignored it and smiled back at him. It had been a long time since they'd acted like friends. "You're welcome. Besides, it isn't every day a girl gets to trade fashion tips with a high school burn out."

Fred laughed and pulled away.

"And I'm sorry about earlier," she blurted out before he shut the door. "I wasn't the most pleasant when I came to pick you up. I'm sorry for being," Hermione paused as she tried to find the right word. Fred beat her to it.

"A heinous bitch?"

Hermione blushed as she realized that it was the perfect description.

"No worries. And good luck," Fred told her, nodding towards her house. "I put in a good word for you this week, so don't screw it up." Fred shut her door and began walking up the drive, yelling directions at Harry and Ron who were still standing on the porch waiting for him.

Hermione turned in her seat to see what he was talking about. Viktor Krum sat on her front porch, drinking a cup of tea with her mother. Next to him was a bunch of daisies. She laughed and reversed down the driveway. When she'd parked on the side of the curb, she glanced back at the Weasley's where Fred waved at her before heading inside.

Of course he would tell Viktor Krum to bring her daisies. She was allergic to daisies.

Perhaps this year wouldn't be that bad after all.

xxxx

This is one of those chapters that sprang forth out of the ether. Originally, it was only supposed to be a few paragraphs in the last chapter, but somehow it decided to burrow in and plant roots.

Thanks to everyone reading! As always, please let me know if I've dropped words or have typos or missed something major.


	4. Out of Town Tonight

_Well no, I'd rather not go and meet your family_

 _They'd probably send me back where I belong_

 _Don't want to hear about your mister right_

 _Cause he's out of town tonight_

 _Baby come and spend some time with Mister Wrong_

xxxx

Hermione shivered and pulled her coat closer to her. It was always cold in late November, but it was never this cold at 5:00 p.m. With the record snowfall almost six inches of snow had fallen in the early morning, but it had been clear since noon. She glanced at the phone sitting beside her before looking back towards the road. Hopefully Viktor hadn't hit an ice patch or gotten lost with the detours that were put in place. In all likelihood he was probably snowed in with his host family rather than being on the road.

She stood up and looked down the street once again, still hoping to see headlights coming down the road. Disappointed, she sat on the cold porch step and drew her scarf closer. The porch light came on across the road and she watched as one of the twins came out to check the mail. She waved, half hoping it wasn't George. Ever since the twin's falling out last month George hadn't been acting like himself, snapping at everyone who wasn't in his inner circle of friends and generally being unpleasant to be around. Hermione still hadn't figured out how to act around him.

Fred, on the other hand, had thrown himself into studying and all but shut out those he used to spend every waking moment with. During lunch and study periods he could be found in the library reading or doodling on various scraps of paper. She waved whenever she saw him there but never went out of her way to talk to him. Oddly enough, despite his self-imposed exile Fred had become closer with Harry, Ron, Ginny, and herself as a result, spending afternoons and weekends with the four. She still hadn't decided if that was a good thing or not.

The twin waved back, mail in hand, and looked both ways before sliding across the street. It was probably Fred, then. George would have gone back inside. Ever since their Sunday jaunt last month Fred had been more open with her and much more likely to give her a hard time about everything. Or, as Ginny had delicately put it after another squabble in the lunch room, _flirt_ with her. Hermione scoffed at the thought. If there was one thing Fred would never do it would be to flirt with her; and she would never dream of flirting back.

Hermione glanced at her watch – 5:15 as Fred walked up the drive. He really wasn't going to come tonight. She'd known better than to get her hopes up about spending more time with the elusive soccer player, but she couldn't help being drawn to the tall, dark Bulgarian. They both knew that it would be nothing more than a short-lived romance, Viktor would be heading home after this year, but there was still something that made her want to spend time with him. One school dance, two and a half dates, and one intense make out session behind the gym probably had a lot to do with it.

She picked up the phone next to her and scrolled through the call log as Fred sat down on the step next to her, stretching his legs out in front of him. Maybe Ron was right and he'd lost all interest when she asked him if he wanted to make things official. Not that she ever wanted Ron to be right about anything, but she had to admit he might have a point. It just made the sting more painful when she realized that Viktor wasn't coming.

She sighed and leaned against the bannister. Fred glanced over at her and nudged her with his elbow. "Wistful sighing while in the presence of the only handsome Weasley? Dost thou pinest for yon large hairy Bulgarian?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at his teasing. "And when did you start paying enough attention to Shakespeare?"

"When Charlie told me his plays were full of dirty jokes. Figured I could pick up something to woo the intellectual ladies with."

Hermione scoffed. "Yes because that's the best way to get her attention."

Fred glanced over at her, surprised at her tone. "Am I interrupting?"

"Only my waiting for Viktor to show up. He promised he'd be here over an hour ago but no one's been down the street. And, he hasn't even called to let me know where he's at or if he's even still coming. I mean, the polite thing would be to at least call if he's not going to make it. Or am I making too big a deal out of this? I'm not, right?" Hermione asked, glancing over at Fred. She was surprised at how good it felt to whine about the situation, even if it was to her childhood nemesis. Snow began to fall and Hermione's mind turned to other possibilities. "You don't think he's hit a snow bank do you? Or spun his car out? You don't think he's out there in the cold without -"

Fred's laughter interrupted her imaginative scenarios. She spun to face him and found him looking up at the falling snow, his hands in his jacket pocket. "You worry far too much Granger. He's probably just snowed in with the Flint's. The news mentioned rolling black outs so he's probably drinking hot cocoa and staring longingly at the phone to call. Whether you believe it or not, he does like you.

She smiled at Fred, ignoring his teasing. He could be really sweet when he wanted to be (which wasn't often). It made her happy to know that she hadn't imagined Viktor's affection towards her, especially when there were so many other girls vying for his attention. Just thinking about him made her cheeks flush.

"I really do like him, you know," she told Fred. Out of the corner of her, it looked like Fred's smile slipped. It happened so quickly she thought she'd imagined it, but even the idea that he might be jealous made her heart skip. She convinced herself it was just a trick of the light and shelved her reaction, and the minute, remote, almost impossibly probability of what her reaction meant was filed away for a late night analysis.

Fred leaned towards her to tug on the large curl near her ear, the one that always made its way out from behind her ear. "He really likes you, too," he repeated. Hermione knew they were talking about Viktor, but the traitorous part of her mind, the one that ignored all social convention and had never lied to her before, faintly whispered that she wished they were talking about the boy next to her rather than the one snowed in.

Before she could think anything more about, he returned to his spot on the porch and Hermione thanked whoever was responsible for the cold that had long since burned the rosy hue into her cheeks. More as a distraction, Hermione glanced at her watch one more time. He really wasn't coming after all. She sighed and placed her head on her knees, wishing that things go right for once where boys were concerned. Feeling something soft being pushed onto her head, she glanced over at Fred to find him shaking out his now flat and far too long hair. She reached up to find that he'd put his knit cap on her head.

"Chin up, Granger, or I'll start to think you don't want me around."

Hermione stared at Fred as she straightened the knit cap. She watched as Fred leaned back on his elbows to stare at the rapidly darkening sky.

"You're out her with the handsome and intelligent Weasley twin. No more feeling down about Mr. Right tonight. He's stuck on the outskirts of town pining after you and drowning his tears in hot chocolate." Fred paused before adding, "Rude of him not to call though."

Hermione made a small noise in agreement. She leaned back and watched the fat snowflakes begin to fall. Neither of them seemed to want to break the silence, both enjoying sitting together on the front porch. They seemed to be doing that a lot lately, and Hermione grudgingly found herself looking forward to the quiet times she spent with the normally boisterous Weasley.

Eventually, Hermione asked how things were going with George, more for curiosity's sake.

"About as well as can be expected. A lot better than it was a week ago, but it's still awkward." Fred was quiet as he thought about it for a while. "Honestly, I think the thing that I'm most angry about is the fact he never talked to me about it. If he'd said something, I don't think things would be this bad between us. Did I tell you he started bunking up with Ron?"

"You didn't, but Ron's been complaining for two weeks now," she told him. "With the way he goes on about it you'd think George was making him sleep on the floor."

Fred snorted. "Ron's always been melodramatic. Speaking of, how are things between the two of you?"

Hermione shifted, reminded suddenly of the rift that had appeared between her and one of her closest friends. "Weird. He's not happy about Viktor but he's the one stringing Lavender along. Anytime I bring her up, he goes on the defensive about it and claims Viktor's stringing me along. It's a really odd situation."

"Things get complicated the older you get, don't they?"

Hermione hummed in agreement. They lapsed back into silence, both unsure of what to say. The silence was only interrupted when Hermione's mother walked out of the door to tell her daughter that dinner would be served in ten minutes.

"Has your young man shown up yet? Hello, Fred?" she asked, squinting at him, still unable to tell the twins apart after living across from them for thirteen years.

"Hello Dr. Mrs. Granger. It's Fred," he told her. She gave him a small smile before turning back to her daughter.

"No, he hasn't shown up yet," Hermione told her miserably before burying her head in her arms again.

"Hm. I'm sure the snow kept him away, it's too icy out there to drive. I won't set a place for him then." Her mother turned to Fred. "Would you like to join us? We're having stew tonight."

"As much as I'd love to, it's my turn to cook tonight. Mum's been trying to teach us how to cook. Something about men being forced into the modern day and learning to be self-sufficient."

Hermione's mother laughed and agreed that Mrs. Weasley had a good idea. She gave Hermione's shoulder a squeeze before heading back inside. They sat together in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Five minutes later Mrs. Weasley stepped out onto her front porch and called for Fred. Spotting the two of them on the porch across the street, she waved before turning back into the house. Fred stood up, brushing the snow off his pants and turned to Hermione.

"Don't let this get to you Hermione. He's just another guy. It's not worth beating yourself up over. I'll see you tomorrow," he told her before walking down the drive.

"Fred," she called out, not quite ready for him to leave. He stopped and turned to face her. "Thanks. And don't give anyone food poisoning!" He laughed and turned back to his house.

Hermione shivered and stood up, realizing for the first time that night how cold it really was. So what if Viktor hadn't been able to make it. It was his loss after all. Fred was right; he was just another guy among the millions in the world. It still struck a blow to her ego though. She turned and went inside the house, taking off her boots and coat in the mudroom before heading towards the kitchen. She caught her reflection in the dining room window and smiled. Fred's ridiculous maroon cap was still on her head; she'd have to track him down tomorrow to return it.

Maybe next time she was stood up she'd invite Fred inside to get out of the cold. Well, so long as her father had forgiven him for taking apart the lawn mower and taking its belt for one of their side projects.

xxxx

Super short one this time for the chorus. But, on the plus side we're just about at the halfway mark! It's all downhill from here. On the plus side, I've got it all planned out so hopefully it will go smoothly. Stay with me folks; things will eventually move along into the romance department rather than just a casual flirting with the automatic doors that lead to it.


End file.
